Centerville

Chapter 10

94 Chapter 10 At close to ten on Saturday night, Jack Turnbow was released from the emergency room. The nurse, who was across the room by then with another patient, glanced up and waved to him as one of the orderlies pushed him in a wheelchair to the entrance where his partner, Martin Beckley, was waiting with the squad car to drive him home. “How did you know to come get me?” he asked Beckley. “The hospital called the police station.” Beckley’s uniform, similar to Jack’s, was blackened from the ash and one of his sleeves was torn. “You were off duty hours ago,” Jack commented. As Beckley prepared to pull out of the hospital’s exit, he turned and Jack saw the blackened ash on his face. “None of us are off duty.” On Sunday, Jack lay in bed, taking painkillers and reading newspaper accounts of the explosion and fire. Then on Monday morning , having swallowed the pills the doctor had given him, he drove to the station to report for work. As he walked into the front office, Jack heard the desk officer , Ted Clearly, on the telephone, talking to the state police office. “What’s going on?” he asked when Ted hung up. 95 “They’re searching for George Fowler,” Ted told him. Jack slid down onto the chair next to Ted’s desk. It was early enough that the air was still cool, but the day promised to be hot again and Jack’s shirt was already damp with sweat. The top of his head felt slick as he took off his police hat. “I thought George Fowler was killed in the explosion. That’s what the newspaper reported.” “I know. But the minister of that Methodist church on Maple Street called yesterday morning and said George Fowler came to his office.” Ted paused. “It’s confidential, that part about the minister. We released a statewide warning late yesterday afternoon. It was broadcast a few minutes ago on the local station. I just heard it. It’s supposed to be in this evening’s paper.” Jack felt his back tighten up, as a thread of pain spiraled through him. While the medication the hospital had given him for his back helped, when he moved too quickly, he sent his muscles into spasm. Despite the pain, he wished he’d called in yesterday. Most of his duties in the small town involved things like traffic control. An opportunity to bring someone like George Fowler to justice might not occur again for years. “What’s going on with the search?” Ted glanced at the log. “The state’s involved, and yesterday the chief sent officers over to George’s parents’ house. He’s got a brother who has some land down by the state border. The state police were hoping he would show up there yesterday, while he still thought he was believed dead, but no such luck.” “Which officers from here are working it?” “Crowley and Garner are assigned to it once they report in, and Dick, Dick Barnett. Joe and Stanley are already out there. Beckley is off this morning. He’s on again this afternoon and evening. Everybody ’s schedule got changed because of the fire. You’re listed as inactive.” 96 “Inactive?” Jack said, louder than he meant to. The pain in his back radiated down toward his legs. “I meant to telephone you earlier and see how you were doing, but I’ve been on with the state and Mike telephoned before that,” Ted apologized. Jack glanced back at the hallway that led to several offices, including the police chief’s. “I mean I could understand assuming I’d take a sick day or two, but inactive? I wasn’t even really injured.” Ted shrugged. “We all thought you were.” “That’s all right. I’ll go back and talk to the chief.” He stood up, but his back seized, forcing him to stay bent over for an extra second or two before straightening all the way. He grimaced, avoiding Ted’s gaze. “I’m fine,” he muttered. A minute later, he stood in front of the police chief’s door. Normally he was well coordinated, but now everything he did felt awkward. He knocked, and as he opened the door, Chief Reynolds glanced up from his desk. “Thought you would be at home recovering,” the chief said. “I...